Halo: 144th Squad
by Son Of Liberty
Summary: The Spartans were the greatest ancient warriors. Can this squad of supersoldiers live up to their namesake as they put down a rebellion? M for violence, blood, and really bad language


0800 hours, July 15, 2561 (military calendar)/UNSC cruiser Forlorn Hope in slipspace, en route to Terrace Five 

Cryogenic stasis disengaged. Wake-up procedure initiating.  
The ice in a cryo pod melted quickly and drained as Raimund Calzez, captain of the Destroyer Forlorn Hope, opened his eyes. He sat up quickly with a squelching noise from the bedding gel and hurled a clear liquid onto the floor. It was meant to be ingested to replace nutrients lost during the freeze, but he found it always tasted like snot.  
"Good morning captain Rai," a male voice said. From the way he pronounced both syllables in the word captain it had to be the onboard A.I.  
"Hello DAP, is it really morning?" Raimund asked as he rubbed his clean shaven head. Cryogenic freeze always left him with a massive headache afterwards.  
"Yes sir. It is the morning of Wednesday the 15th of July, UNSC calendar year 2561." The captain got shakily to his feet, he had been asleep for five months. He managed three barking coughs while his lungs adjusted to pure oxygen, at least until the humans created an equilibrium between oxygen and carbon dioxide.  
"I assume the crew is awake?" he asked slowly trying to get his muscles to move.  
"Yes sir, all personnel are awake."  
"No problems with the wake-up?"  
"Just one. One crew member had difficulty breathing after thawing. He was immediately moved to the medical ward and is doing fine now," DAP said with characteristic calm. Rai cursed inward, there was always problems that at least one person couldn't overcome.  
"Who was it?" he asked.  
"Gunnery Sergeant Yish, sir." Rai swore, his weapons officer out of action left his ship all but defenseless. "I would suggest you get cleaned up sir, the Spartans are scheduled to wake up in a day."  
"I have a whole day, DAP." Rai stated.  
"Not as far as I'm concerned," a female voice said behind him. Turning around Rai saw Navigational Officer Lieutenant Amanda Walsh standing up from her cryo pod. She had shoulder length blond hair and, like himself, was completely naked. He was used to seeing his crew like that, however.  
"Excuse me ma'm. I thought you were already up."  
"Nope, now get a shower and I'll meet you on the bridge." She walked off toward the locker room, leave Rai staring after her.  
"What do you think of her, DAP?" he asked the A.I.  
"I am an artificial intelligence, I wasn't programmed to evaluate the sex appeal of the crew."  
"Screw you then." Raimund went off to the showers. 

Fifteen minutes later Rai strolled onto the bridge wearing a fresh white uniform. It was well decorated with campaign bars and various medals. He had been one of the few lucky captains to manage to stay alive in the Covenant-Human War. The bridge looked like something out of a star wars movie; there was a small depression in the middle of the room where the officers worked with a walkway down the middle. Five view screens adorned the front wall and the captain's chair sat right in the center of them. Next to it was a small podium, where the image of DAP appeared. All A.I.'s had different appearances, DAP took one of a roman centurion. Instead of sitting in the "hot seat," as the captain's chair was called, Raimund dropped down and sat at the weapons console.  
"Not like you captain, what's the problem?" Walsh asked from her station across the walkway.  
"Weapons officer incapacitated for the moment. I'll handle it till he gets well" Rai sighed and cycled through the weapons systems. The Forlorn Hope had two MAC guns, 50 archer pods, and a full complement of fighters, not to mention two frigate escorts. All this to get one pelican of super soldiers onto a glassed planet. The irony was not lost on Raimund.  
"We're preparing to leave slipstream space," DAP stated. Procedure would require the captain to be in the hot seat, so Rai got up and sat down in his own chair.  
"Okay, lets get on with it."  
"Decelerating, engaging bow thrusters," Walsh said as she typed on her console and gripped the wheel of the ship. As the ship slowed everyone was pushed forward against their harnesses. Finally the view screens flickered on and showed pinpricks of light, stars in the surrounding system.  
"We are six megaklicks from Terrace 5."  
"Thank you DAP. Put the captain of the Mobius on please." A pause, then a man appeared on the middle screen.  
"Captain Marcus here, what's your status Forlorn Hope?"  
"We've just come out of the slipstream. Where are you?"  
"We're three miles off course. We'll correct and rejoin the formation. No problems?"  
"Nothing major. All right Marcus see you soon."  
"Right, toodles Rai." The screen flicked back to its normal view of space as Raimund leaned back in his chair.  
"DAP, tell me again why we're sending an elite squad to fight over a piece of obsidian?"  
"Because certain areas were not hit when the Covenant glassed the planet. This is the only recorded instance of the Covenant ever missing any areas. Anyways, engineers managed to restore a spaceport to operational status. The area around it flourished again, and that has brought it to the attention of the rebels. The Spartans are here to keep the rebels at bay, this is a very important center."  
"Thank you DAP."  



End file.
